


Say My Name

by GoldenTruth813



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blow Jobs, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, HPCupMiniFest, Harry Potter Epilogue Compliant, Harry Potter Next Generation, Love Confessions, M/M, Mud, Mutual Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Pining, Quidditch Player James Sirius Potter, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-01
Updated: 2018-09-01
Packaged: 2019-07-05 10:41:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15861984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldenTruth813/pseuds/GoldenTruth813
Summary: The crowd above them is still screaming. Teddy feels James’s mouth curl into a smile against his neck and something selfish and desperate takes hold of Teddy. The whole world is screaming James’s name, but he wants to hear James screaming his.





	Say My Name

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Thealmostrhetoricalquestion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thealmostrhetoricalquestion/gifts).



> This was written for the #hpcupminifest on Tumblr for the prompt Muddy. How could I resist writing muddy James?!
> 
> Thank you Aibidil for the excellent beta. <3

 

Teddy thrums his fingers on his jeans, the buzz of the crowd cheering above him barely dulled by the wooden seats of the stadium or the distance. From his vantage point beneath the stands Teddy can see the shuffle of feet, the swish of robes and hear the crowd still losing their shit.

He can’t blame them. Ten minutes prior Teddy had been one of them—had been leaning over the edge of Harry’s private box screaming himself hoarse as James dove for the Snitch. It’d been a tight race and for one dizzying moment Teddy had thought England might lose. The rain was coming down so hard he could barely make out the players, much less tell which team’s Seeker had caught the Snitch. But then James had pulled up out of a dangerous dive, a dizzying blaze of blue streaking through the air, and the crowd’s screams had been nearly deafening. Sure, England had won, but for Teddy—for everyone in that moment-—it had been James’s victory.

James had been the youngest player since Victor Krum to be called to play for the national team, and the youngest player called to England’s team in nearly a century. Teddy wasn’t sure who cried harder when James told everyone the news—Harry, who collapsed into his favourite armchair by the fireplace and buried his face in his hands, or Ginny, who screamed before tackling James onto the sofa. James’s face had been radiant, the pride he felt written across his face clear as day.  

He’d smiled at Teddy beneath an armful of his mum, which had turned into an armful of his mum and dad and brother and sister, before every Weasley in the Potters’ house had taken turns hugging him until James was hollering, “Let me out or there won’t be any of me left to play in the World Cup!”

Teddy was the only one who knew how nervous James was about the entire thing. Teddy was the only one James confided in about how much he feared letting everyone—his parents, his country, and for some mind-boggling reason, even Teddy—down. As if anything James did could ever let any of them down. James had been making people proud since the day he was born, and Teddy was pretty sure it wasn’t going to stop any time soon. There was something about James, something that drew people to him and made people love him, that was simply effervescent. That, and the fact that beneath the raw talent was a boy who worked his arse off to get what he wanted.

James’s smile that day had eclipsed everything else in radius. Teddy felt certain even the sun and the moon must be in love with James Sirius Potter in that moment—fighting to rise and set upon his smile.

So watching James cinch the victory for his team—for _England_ —well, Teddy wasn’t surprised. Not really. The rest of the crowd, though, they clearly were. There had been several long seconds of deafening silence as the fans tried to figure out what was happening, and then blue and white fireworks erupted in the sky and England’s fans began screaming so loud Teddy’s eardrums nearly burst.

James hadn’t been favoured to win. In fact, Ireland’s Seeker was so good that Teddy had caught sight of some of the vendors in the back corridor setting up _Ireland Wins_ merchandise when he’d caught sight of some of the vendors already setting up nearly half an hour before the game had even ended. But Teddy had never doubted for a second that James would win. Not because James got everything he wanted handed to him, but because he worked hard for everything he wanted. Not that hard work alone could earn someone a World Cup. James had a natural talent for flying, combined with his determination and something special—something uniquely James—had made Teddy feel certain James would get the victory he so desperately wanted.

Teddy had seen James come back to their flat for months too tired to even eat, collapsing into his bed in his training clothes. Each night Teddy would sneak in after him, remove his trainers and spell his clothes clean before tucking him in. James was a naturally gifted flyer, but there was no luck involved when James won. It was a calculated victory earned with blood, sweat, and tears and fuck was Teddy proud of him.

A loud squishing noise startles Teddy from his thoughts as he spins on his heels to see James sneaking beneath the heavy canopy hangings.

“Hey,” James says, looking pleased. He’s got a shit-eating grin on his face and for once it’s for a good reason. James is nineteen, Witch Weekly’s most eligible bachelor nine months running and he’s just won his country the World Cup.

“Hey yourself,” Teddy echoes with a wry grin, his voice nearly lost in the shouts of the spectators above them, who are giving no indication of stopping their celebrations.

Teddy pushes aside the strange feelings swirling in the pit of his stomach—an overwhelming mix of adrenaline from the game and a bit of residual guilt at having doubted James would show up to meet him. James is here. James came. It doesn’t matter that Teddy had momentarily doubted him, he can bury that truth down with the other things he keeps hidden.

“What did you think of the game?” James asks, his heavy boots squishing loudly in the rain-soaked grass as he approaches Teddy.

It’s a disaster down here, the ground a mess of deep mud puddles made worse by the water dripping down upon their heads from the openings in the stadium seating. It’s possibly the worst place Teddy could’ve picked to ask James to meet him and Teddy can’t find a single fuck to give. Because there is James, just an arm’s length away from him, his beautiful auburn hair plastered to his forehead and rivulets of water dripping down his face and clinging to the freckles on the bridge of his nose. He’s still wearing his Quidditch uniform, of course he is. The Quidditch jersey, a dark blue with white lettering that makes his hazel eyes seem almost grey, clings to his skin, and Teddy can see every muscle in his stomach as James breathes heavily. His trousers are standard Quidditch issue, padding in the thighs and arse and laced up low at the waist. They’re old fashioned and a bit ridiculous and Teddy wants to rip the laces out with his teeth and make James _scream_.

“It was incredible. You were incredible.” There’s no point in teasing James. He deserves every single accolade, even if his ego gets so big he won’t fit through their Floo later.

James’s smile widens, the dimples in his cheeks more prominent than ever. Something in Teddy’s chest constricts and this time it's his feet that are moving, water sloshing up the side of his trainers and sinking inside. His socks are wet and he can feel water in between his toes, but all he cares about is getting closer to James.

They’ve been dancing around each other for months, and Teddy feels certain if he doesn’t touch James now after an hour of listening to James’s name on other people’s lips, he might actually die. It’s not jealousy though. Not really. Certainly Teddy knows more than a few people want to get into James’s trousers. To say James is attractive would be an understatement. James’s body looks sculpted out of marble, his smile radiant and his laugh is as joyful as the first day of spring. But Teddy is neither stupid nor illogical, and he knows without a shred of doubt—even if he doesn’t quite understand _why_ —that the only person James wants in his trousers is _Teddy_.

The problem has been that Teddy wasn’t ready.

James still lived at home, he’d told himself. It couldn’t happen. Until one day he didn't. James popped through the Floo in Teddy’s flat unannounced with his broom thrown over his shoulder and a smile and an easily whispered, _“Thought maybe I’d stay in your spare room for a bit.”_ A day became a week and then weeks become months and Teddy isn't sure if James will ever leave. He hopes he doesn’t. Except then the problem became James was his roommate and he couldn’t fuck _that_ up. James needed to focus on Quidditch—Teddy was a distraction. James had his whole life ahead of him. James didn’t need to be weighed down by a twenty-five-year-old man who’d recently quit the Aurors to pursue photography and painting because he realised he hated his job and decided to have a mid-life crisis forty years early.

So it had never been about James. James was perfect. It was just Teddy who was the problem. Teddy was the distraction. Teddy was the one who didn’t feel quite good enough for James. Teddy felt like an anchor—not keeping James steady, but holding him back.

Not that Teddy had ever said those words out loud, but he had a terrible suspicion James knew. For all James was always laughing and smiling and making light of everything, there was a seriousness about him that he kept hidden. He was like his mum that way—he had a way of seeing right inside of people and knowing what they needed and who they were beneath the facade they showed everyone else. James didn’t push, just kept circling around Teddy with his kind eyes and gentle smile, his hugs lingering seconds longer than necessary and his gaze fond.

Teddy had trouble understanding why, if James could have the world, all he seemed to want was Teddy.

But then something inside of Teddy had snapped the moment he’d seen James catch the Snitch. He’d sagged against the wall in relief, in exhilaration—but mostly in abject panic—as he realised that the only person stopping Teddy from having what (or _who_ ) he wanted was Teddy.

James’s name had fallen from the lips of thousands and all Teddy could think was that James’s name had fallen from Teddy’s lips first. Teddy had loved James before he was a winner. Teddy had loved James since the moment he was born. Not the way he did now, that’d been a recent enough development, of course. But all the same it was still love. _Love_. Fuck.

Without giving it a second thought, Teddy had grabbed his wand from his pocket and sent his patronus down to the field to James with a message to meet him in ten minutes beneath the stadium. He’d ignored Harry’s questioning looks and Albus’s whispered, “About fucking time,” before shoving his way through the crowd as he rushed to the area hidden beneath the private boxes.

He hadn’t been sure James would come. Hadn’t been sure if it was too late.

Except here is James, his chest heaving and his eyes alight with adrenaline as he takes one more step closer. They’re so close now, just an arm’s length apart. Teddy can touch him if he wants to, so he does. He reaches out slowly, placing one hand on James’s hip, pulling his hand away when James hisses.

“Fuck, sorry. Bludger,” he says with a shrug, lifting his Quidditch jersey to show off his side, which is blooming a nasty shade of purple.

“You should go get that seen to,” Teddy tells him, his bravery faltering. Maybe it's not such a good idea after all. James has just won the World Cup, for fuck’s sake. He needs a Healer and food and there are probably a million people who want to congratulate him and—

“The only person I want to see is you,” James says, as if reading his mind, reaching out to take Teddy’s other hand and place it on the opposite hip, moving to close the distance so that they’re pressed together from their knees to their chest. James had a growth spurt over the summer, is nearly as tall as Teddy, and his nose shoves into the bottom of Teddy’s cheek as his eyelashes flutter against Teddy’s flushed skin.

“Jamie.”

“Did you cheer for me?” James asks, fisting his hands in the sides of Teddy’s jumper as if afraid he might leave. As if Teddy could ever walk away from _this_.

 _I’m always cheering for you_ , Teddy thinks. Except the words get stuck in his throat.

Instead of speaking, he closes his eyes and breathes in James’s scent—earthy and strong and so _James_ it’s almost hard to breathe. Not even hours in the rain can wash it away. Teddy can’t find the right words to encapsulate the way he feels, doesn’t know how to say _I’ll always cheer for you, Jamie_. So instead he moves his hands to the side of James’s face, his heart skipping a beat at the tiny gasp James emits.

Teddy tilts his head down, nosing away the drops of water on James’s face as his lips drag across the damp skin of James’s cheek. He moves his right hand to James’s chin, his thumb stroking across the fullness of James’s bottom lip as he tilts his head up. The whimper James releases when Teddy’s lips descend upon his makes Teddy shiver, and he’s pretty sure he could live the rest of his life and never hear anything that perfect. At least until his tongue slides along James’s mouth, urging it open, slipping inside and then James lets out a groan so desperate and heady Teddy’s cock twitches in his jeans but still he continues to kiss James slow and lazy. He’s waited so long, he’s not sure even the stadium collapsing atop them would be enough to get him to remove himself from James’s embrace.

James. James, whose cold hands have slipped beneath the hem of Teddy’s jumper and are gripping his sides tightly as he leans into the kiss, his own tongue dancing across Teddy’s bottom lip as if they’ve done this a million times. It doesn’t feel tentative or scary. It feels like coming home. It feels like the culmination of all the dreams Teddy’s been too scared to give voice too.

Kissing James is better than Teddy could have imagined, and fuck, did he imagine it a lot. James kisses like he flies—a confidence and boldness that is exhilarating with a hint of earnestness that makes Teddy weak in the knees.

“ _Teddy_.” James whispers his name as if being able to say it is some sort of victory, as if it is a prize. His hands slip out from beneath Teddy's jumper to slide up his chest, his strong fingers caressing the back of Teddy’s neck before moving up to tangle in his hair. Out of the corner of his eye, Teddy can see the pale blue strands of his hair wrapped around James’s tan fingers. It’s beautiful.

James’s touch is firm but gentle, his warm breath puffing into the side of Teddy’s mouth as he begins to plant open-mouthed kisses along the side of Teddy’s jaw. James’s hands are shaking, from exhaustion or emotion Teddy doesn’t know, but a powerful surge of protectiveness settles in his chest as he wraps his arms around James’s trim waist and holds him close.

“Potter, Potter, Potter!”

The crowd above them is still screaming. Teddy feels James’s mouth curl into a smile against his neck and something selfish and desperate takes hold of Teddy. The whole world is screaming James’s name, but he wants to hear James screaming _his_.

Teddy pulls out of the embrace, ignoring James’s look of confusion as Teddy drops to his knees. The ground beneath him is cold, the mud thick as it sloshes around his legs and clings to his jeans but when Teddy looks up to find James watching him, all he feels is a deep and abiding warmth.

“Can I?” Teddy asks, wrapping the string from James’s trousers around his pointer finger and tugging lightly.

“Wait, what?” James gasps, looking shocked.

Teddy can’t help but smile. For all his cocky bravado, James is surprisingly easy to fluster and fuck does Teddy love it.

“Can I touch you? Can I undo the strings of your trousers with my teeth, tug down the leather with my hands? Will you let me make you feel good, Jamie?”

James makes a choking noise in the back of his throat, shaking his head so hard in agreement water droplets go flying. “Fuck, yes. You can— _fuck_ , you can do anything. Have anything. I’m yours.”

Teddy’s glad he’s already on his knees, because those words falling from James’s lips would’ve brought him to them anyway. Fuck, but James is so open. So honest. It makes Teddy feel drunk and heady, the easy way James says how he feels and what he wants. Teddy’s good at the sex part, not so good at the emotional part. He thinks maybe that’s why he’s been holding back, too afraid to not give James what he deserves.

“Please,” James begs, fingers gliding through Teddy’s hair.

“Gonna make you forget anyone else exists,” Teddy says more confidently than he feels.

“You already have,” James whispers, his thumb gliding across Teddy’s eyebrow and across the gold piercing there. _Fuck_. James and his big heart and his honesty were going to be the death of Teddy. Teddy’s not sure if he wants to cry or scream, so he grabs ahold of James’s thighs, and tugs on the laces hard with his teeth just like he promised. The words Teddy wants to say feel dangerous and powerful and he doesn’t know how to give voice to them, so instead he rips the laces free, slipping his fingertips into the waistband of the skintight trousers and tugging them down roughly to sit just below James’s arse. Despite the chill in the air, James’s skin is warm and clammy, his cock already hard and bobbing directly in front of Teddy’s face.

James looks reverent, his chest already rising and falling faster and Teddy can tell from the subtle quiver in his legs that he’s using every ounce of self-control he possesses to stay still. Except Teddy doesn't want him to have any self-control, not when Teddy’s is so rapidly slipping away.

“Fucking perfect,” Teddy says, before pressing his face into the firm plane of James’s hip, pressing a sloppy kiss to the skin just beside James’s cock.

“Teddy,” James whines, the tip of James’s cock brushing Teddy’s ear and leaving a trail of dampness.

“Say it again,” Teddy says, not at all caring that he sounds as desperate as James looks. “Say my name.”

“ _Teddy_ ,” James breathes, and though his voice is barely above a whisper Teddy hears it loud and clear, echoing in his head louder than the screams of the hordes of people above them as he leans forward to suck James’s cock back into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks and taking it as deep as it can go.

James is pliant under his ministrations, his hands fisting in Teddy’s hair tightly as if he might topple over, whimpers and moans falling from his lips as if holding back anything of himself is not even an option. Teddy drinks it all in—every sound, every small thrust of his hips—committing every single one to memory as James’s cock slides in and out of his mouth.

“I’m, oh— _oh,_ ” James all but screams when Teddy’s right hand moves around the back of James’s body to cup his arse, urging James to push his cock deeper.

Teddy pulls off, breathing heavily as he looks up at James.

“Are you close?” he asks, trailing one finger down the crease of James’s arse.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” is all James says, which is answer enough for Teddy. Teddy opens his mouth, intent on sucking him down to the base, but James pulls on his hair hard.

“Jamie?”

“Just—” James looks _wrecked_ , his face red and splotchy and his chest heaving with his trousers pooled just below his arse. “Fuck, I want you, come up here, _please_.”

Teddy can’t deny James anything when he asks like that, not that he wants to.

“I’m a mess,” Teddy protests, voice a bit hoarse from sucking James’s cock, and thick chunks of mud falling off his jeans when he rises to stand.

“Don’t care,” James says, his hands trembling as they work at Teddy’s buttons. His jeans are ruined and James gets his hands covered in mud as he pushes Teddy’s jeans down to his knees. “You’re perfect.”

 _No, you are,_ Teddy thinks, slamming his lips against James’s to keep the words from falling from his lips.

James is tired, his hands moving slowly as he grips their cocks together. It’s a bit awkward and not quite firm enough, but it’s James’s hand—the familiar callouses on the tips of his fingers brushing along the length of Teddy’s aching cock, and it feels so good Teddy can barely contain himself.

“Teddy, Teddy, Teddy,” James chants, as if Teddy’s name is both a question and an answer.

It scares Teddy, the realisation that he would do anything for James—give him anything, if he asked.

Teddy covers James’s hand with his own, linking their fingers as they pull each other off together. The angle is still a bit awkward and James’s grip is weak from fatigue, but it's also warm and sure and Teddy finds himself coming faster than he has in years. All it takes is a few inexperienced strokes from James with James’s lips on his before Teddy is shoving his face into the side of James’s neck with a bitten back whimper as his come covers James’s cock and stomach.

“Oh fuck,” James groans loudly, dropping his hands and shuddering, thrusting his hips against Teddy.

Teddy doesn’t falter, just keeps on moving his hand up and down the length of James’s cock all through his own orgasm, speeding up his strokes and tightening his grip. It doesn’t take long, just a few purposeful movements before its James’s turn to come with a scream he doesn’t bother to contain.

James drops his chin to Teddy’s shoulder, breathing heavily into his neck as he struggles to catch his breath and Teddy holds him close, his hands moving up and down James’s lower back, not sure if he’s trying to soothe James or himself. Maybe both.

When James pulls back, there’s a look in his eyes, one Teddy’s seen a million times and never let himself believe was real. Except this time he does. This time he doesn’t question it.

“I love you, you know.” James says it in a way only James could, half bravado, as if daring Teddy to fight him about it and half expecting to need to apologize for it. “Have for ages, you wanker.”

“I know, Jamie. I know,” Teddy whispers, pressing his nose into James’s cheek and nuzzling his face. He closes his eyes, breathing in James once more to give himself courage, tightening his hold on James and resting the palms of his hands on the dip of James’s lower back.  “I love you too.”

He’s surprised to find that the world doesn’t implode when he says the words out loud.

James pulls back to smile at him, something soft and knowing in his eyes that makes Teddy feel a bit more whole. James cups Teddy’s face with his hand, smearing mud across his cheek in the process.

The people above them are still screaming, the rain begins to cascade down upon them even harder, they’re both filthy, and all Teddy can do is smile.

“We won, Jamie,” he whispers and James kisses him again.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [Tumblr](http://goldentruth813.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Comments and kudos are love


End file.
